Xie Shang closed the door, pressed Wen Changling against the wall, his scorching, damp palm clasping her slender, frail nape, pulling her in, biting through her lip.
She didn't push him away, enduring with furrowed brows.
Blood boiled, humidity evaporated, the moist ambiguity filled with searing heat.
In the pauses of Xie Shang's breaths, Wen Changling asked him in a low voice, "Are you in a bad mood?"
His entire being was restless.
"You're very angry." Her back pressed against the door latch, Wen Changling felt a bit of pain and leaned slightly towards him, "Xie Shang, who are you angry with?"
Xie Shang kissed away the blood at the corner of her mouth.
"Does it hurt?"
"It hurts."
"You deserve it." Having cleaned up, he continued biting, "Had to provoke me."
Contradictory, indecisive.
He bit her till she bled, then carefully kissed her.
